


Orange Juice on a Sunday

by neytah



Category: Only The Young (Band), X Factor (UK) RPF
Genre: M/M, Morning After, One Night Stands, non x factor au, side petsy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3193955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neytah/pseuds/neytah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charlie wakes up in a bed that is not his.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Orange Juice on a Sunday

**Author's Note:**

> Context notes: AU where the band doesn't exist. Charlie and Parisa are long time friends, Betsy is her girlfriend. You can take the rest from there. Enjoy :)

Charlie wakes with a start, a sharp inhale, eyes darting open. He is not in his room. An unfamiliar ceiling, and four unfamiliar walls, filled with someone else's possessions. A boy's, assumedly. He's starting to piece together how he got here. He quickly recognizes his clothes on the floor, among clothes that are not his. It's also now he realizes, with his clothes on the floor, that there are none on his body, naked under the sheets.

He scrambles out of bed to his trousers, thankful to still find his phone in his pocket. He goes straight to speed dial, Parisa. It rings once, twice.

"Please pick up." He mutters under his breath. He was out last night, he remembers, with Parisa and her girlfriend, Betsy. In a club dark and loud, full of smoke and strangers. And clearly, at some point, he was abandoned, or else he wouldn't have ended up here in a stranger's bedroom.

It rings a third time, a fourth. He sighs. A fifth. Then voicemail.

"Hey you've reached Parisa Tarjomani. I'm not--" He hangs up before it can finish. He shoots her a text, [please call me asap]. Then he puts his clothes back on, ready to venture out into the world he's woken up to.

He leaves the room with caution, door closed gently behind him,feet soft on the carpet. He tiptoes down the hallway, quickly notices a bathroom to relieve himself. But he can't hide in there forever either, he knows, so he ventures out again. So he tiptoes back out into the hallway, alert for whatever lifeforms might await him in this apartment. But when he reaches the end of the hallway with an open door, he stops short.

And memories of last night start rushing back.

The other boy doesn't notice him, at first. Here in the kitchen, he stands back turned to Charlie, pouring milk into a bowl of cereals

. Charlie swallows, the mark on the boy's neck reminding him of how it got there. He stands there, unsure of what to do, the boy still unaware of his presence.

Then his phone rings.

It startles Charlie as much as it does the boy, probably, breaking through the silence with its shrill tone. The boy swirls around, suddenly acutely aware of Charlie's presence.

"Sorry, I, uh..." Charlie darts back into the hallway to answer his phone.

"Hey," It's Parisa's voice. "Sorry I didn't answer earlier, I was... preoccupied. What's up? Did you get home okay last night?"

"No!" He says in hushed frustration. "I'm at a stranger's house!" Parisa gasps.

"Omigod, tell me everything. You're safe, right? Not a serial killer or anything?"

"I don't think so-I hope not!"

"Okay, good. You used a condom?"

"Parisa!"

"Okay, okay! But when you get back, you have to tell me me everything." He hears Betsy in the background: "Oh it's Charlie, just having his first one night stand." More excited background Betsy noises. "Oh, good question! Charlie, is it a girl or a boy?"

"He's--Parisa! What am I supposed to do?"

"Just...go with it okay? As I said before, he's not a serial killer, he's just a normal person, so just talk to him like one. Flirt, maybe go for round two-"

"Parisa!"

"Look, just be natural, okay? You can do it, I know you. What's the worst that could happen?"

I could make a fool of myself and be embarrassed for the rest of my life. But he doesn't say this, just gives an exasperated sigh.

"Good luck, gotta go!" And she hangs up.

And now he must face the predicament he's gotten himself into and the attractive man that's come with it. 

He pokes his head back into the kitchen. The boy's still standing there. Their eyes meet.

"Um, hi."

The boy's mouth is full of cereal, so he just waves, an attempted smile. Charlie steps fully into the room.

"I'm Charlie."

"Mikey." He gestures to the phone, in Charlie's hand. "Your girlfriend?"

"No no no, that's just my friend, Parisa. She's gay, she's got a girlfriend..." Charlie stops when he realizes Mikey's chuckling.

"Okay, my bad. It just ain't that uncommon."

"You do this often?"

He laughs again. Charlie's growing to like his laugh.

"Often is a strong word, I'd say. But more than you, I assume."

"Is it that obvious?"

Mikey pauses.

"Do I need to field any sort of gay crisis here? Cuz I"ll put down my cereal for that."

"No no no, that's not an issue, for me..." Mikey smiles.

"Good. Just checking. Sure you don't want any cereal? And I have orange juice around here somewhere, too, I think..."

Mikey turns around to check the fridge, and Charlie doesn't protest. He finds the courage to step forward, closer. Now only the kitchen island separates them. 

Mikey turns back around, quite pleased with himself and the carton of orange juice he has procured. He opens it, sniffs it, and decides it has not gone bad.

"Want some?"

"I, uh," If Charlie remembers correctly, he never asked for orange juice, but faced with those bright eyes, he can't refuse. "Sure, why not?"

Mikey's remaining cereal is more or less abandoned as he searches for a clean glass in his cabinets, finally finding one in the back of one. He pours Charlie a glass, and then pushes it across the island towards him. And Charlie, with a bit of caution, takes a sip. It is not, as Mikey might've feared, spoiled, and Charlie takes another sip.

"Acceptable?"

Charlie nods. Mikey smiles.

"Good." He goes back to his cereal now, cheerios starting to get soggy in the milk. He doesn't seem to mind though. A question suddenly comes to mind, although he's come to know that he is in Mikey's apartment, a not-serial-killer stranger he went home with last night, but he has no idea where he is in relation to, say, his house.

"Where are we?" He asks. "Like, in the city?"

"Oh, We're around 22nd street." Mikey says. So not too far. Close enough to probably pay for a taxi with the remaining money in his wallet. He should probably go. Get mad at Parisa for leaving him to his own devices last night. Even though it all turned out okay, in the end. He finishes his orange juice.

"I should go." He says. But it's in a calm, relaxed atmosphere, unlike when he first entered the room. 

"Sure," Mikey says. "Need money for a cab?"

"Nah, I should be good." Mikey smiles. It makes Charlie's stomach twist.

So he leaves the empty glass on the island, goes towards the door. Mikey follows.

"So... how do things like this usually end?" Charlie asks.

"Dunno. Depends on how you want it to." Nervous laughter.

So Mikey takes the phone, still in Charlie's hand, and enters his number. He hands it back. Another nervous smile.

"I should go now."

"You should."

 Charlie's hesitant as he leans forward, but Mikey closes the gap. A quick kiss, one last one. And then a flustered Charlie bids his goodbyes and leaves.

The butterflies in his stomach last the whole cab ride home.


End file.
